


As Perceived

by Azzandra



Category: Stargate Universe
Genre: Drabble Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-24
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 22:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/411791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azzandra/pseuds/Azzandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles about Destiny, through the five senses of its occupants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Perceived

**Taste**

Brody's grandfather was a farmer. He always said, "You have to raise tomatoes with love. That's the secret, you see. You have to let the love seep in and give 'em flavor."

The tomatoes on Destiny taste like homesickness and despair.

**Smell**

The infirmary never smells quite right. There are certain smells one associates with these spaces: antiseptic and medicine, or sometimes the lingering traces of blood, or sweat or vomit.

T.J. isn't sure in what way the smell isn't right, but she sometimes forgets, even as she is rolling up bandages or trying to tinker with the Ancient medical equipment—she forgets what she is doing there. When she remembers again, there is always a sense of loss and isolation; though her mind is away from Destiny for only a few moments, as it returns, she feels the gut-wrenching panic of being trapped away from home all over again.

She thinks that if she could smell the antiseptic and the sickness in the air, she would never for a moment forget where she is and what she is supposed to do.

**Sight**

The ship's corridors are dim, and the brassy metal corridors feel lived-in, but that only makes Camile feel like she is trespassing in someone else's house. They all look the same, rooms and corridors; their geography different but their appearance identical.

When the dull metallic sheen of the interior overwhelms, others go to the observation deck and stare out into the great void of the universe.

Camile cannot do that anymore. It has become too hard.

**Sound**

The ship is nearly silent, but still has her hums and buzzes, her own language through which she communicates her needs: the FTL drive having problems, the shields running low, the life support running inefficiently...

Rush liked to imagine it as a symphony, but Eli compared it to a whale song once, and now he cannot get the simile out of his mind. A whale song, deep in the fathomless depths of space, and they, trapped in the whale's belly like Jonah.

**Touch**

Greer does not understand how the ship works, nor does he much care. It is enough that it is a solid thing, and touching the walls of Destiny feels cold and unyielding, as metal should. It is the only reassurance he needs.


End file.
